1 Buccaneer Place: From Chill To Thrill

April 20, 1985|By Jerry Greene, of the Sentinel staff

TAMPA — The lillies of the field were in full bloom Friday at One Buccaneer Place. The Leeman Bennett regime is in full control, and the headquarters of the Tampa Bay Buccaneers seems like a small country liberated from a nine-year reign of terror.

''I like him a lot,'' said Buccaneers quarterback Steve DeBerg about Bennett, the second head coach in the 10-year history of the Bucs. ''Personally, I think he's exactly what we need. He's personable and not detached.''

Let's read around DeBerg's careful words. If the Bucs needed a coach who is personable and not detached, then they must have had a coach who was not personable and was detached. Right?

Right.

Still, Steve, transitions always are difficult, right?

''Normally, a transition does take time -- but sometimes a team is so hungry for a change.''

Can a football team, players and office workers alike, be starved for affection? Believe it.

John McKay, former coach and still president of the Buccaneers, was not present Friday for the first day of Bennett's first minicamp. To McKay's credit, he probably realized his presence would interfere with Bennett's practice-field debut as the new coach.

Besides, McKay has kept an extremely low profile lately. He's seldom seen and almost never heard by most of the administrative workers. Writers who still predict a battle for control of the Bucs are wrong.

One Buccaneer Place is Bennett's office now -- and the change in atmosphere is amazing. Think of the place as Amityville before and after an exorcism.

One female worker stressed the warmth of Bennett compared to the frosty chill that used to haunt the halls. She remembered a day that Bennett gave her a friendly hug and she froze, standing rigid with her arms pressed to her sides. Startled, Bennett pulled back and another worker said to him, ''Coach, you'll have to forgive us. We're like abused children.''

A male worker said it's the little things -- such as his wonderment when he saw Bennett making a pot of coffee.

The situation is both understandable and embarrassing for Bennett, who tries to avoid talk about McKay. He has no ax to grind with McKay and doesn't wish to create any problems.

Even so, Bennett indicated he was fully aware of public feeling when speaking recently to a booster group in Sarasota. A Bucs booster asked: ''You don't smoke a cigar and wear a white hat, do you?''

Bennett grinned and pulled a long cigar out of his coat pocket. ''I like a good cigar,'' he said, ''but I don't wear a white hat. Hey, that's 50 percent, and that will get you in the majors any day.''

More seriously, Bennett says: ''Any time a new coach comes in after a disappointing season or seasons, he's usually welcomed with open arms. I know that they love me as long as we win. I could be the nicest guy in the world, but if we don't win it won't mean a thing. And I don't blame them.''

Take a second and read Bennett's remarks again. Even in his denial of any real change taking place, he proves the difference by showing his understanding and sympathy with the feelings of the fans.

McKay understood how the fans felt -- he just didn't give a damn.

As for the first practice Friday afternoon, Bennett admitted that he was a little disappointed in the size of the slight crowd that turned out to watch. But a tarp-shrouded fence has prevented fans from watching the Bucs work for years, so few try anymore. More will turn out when they realize that Bennett has had the tarp removed from the main section of the fence.

He's even talking about erecting bleachers at the practice field.

Despite the changes, however, old habits die hard. One fan crawled through a thick underbrush to find a place where he could peer beneath a portion of the tarp that still stands. He eventually worked his way around to the side that's now open to the public but never looked comfortable standing there in the open sunlight.

When you've been abused too long, it takes a while to accept any other way of life.